Crave
by Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan
Summary: There are many things that Remus Lupin would like to do to Sirius Black, but none he has the courage to admit to, so all he can do is fantasise and dream


I watch him as he sleeps, illuminated by the pale slither of moonlight filtering in through the drapes of our dormitory. He's sprawled across the bed on his back, sheets pooled around slim hips in the humidity of the night. Black hair fanned out over his pillow in stark contrast to the white cotton. His eyelids are closed, hiding his brilliant eyes from sight, dark eyelashes smudging the tanned skin of his cheek.  
  
He's muttering as he dreams. The words aren't intelligible or clear enough to understand, but his lips are moving. His mumbles are punctuated by gentle snores, not loud enough to wake either himself or anyone else, but there they are, adding to the perfect picture of a sleeping Sirius.  
  
I find myself scooting to the edge of my bed, leaning closer to him, trying to hear what he's saying. But no, still too faint to make the words out, and I dare not get any closer in case he, or any of the others, wake up. It may just be the stillness of the night, but I feel as though I'm breathing heavier, the wolf in me scenting out a prospective mate, or perhaps I'm simply a horny teenaged boy. Surely I'm breathing loudly enough to wake the whole castle. A quick glance around our room shows that no, they're all still asleep. I'm just being paranoid.  
  
Another deep breath reveals faint traces of shampoo and soap still lingering around him, a herbal smell mixing in the air with his own individual scent; a touch of sweat, a touch of arousal and something I cannot recognise, but label as being 'Sirius.' Backtrack. arousal? Something inside me fires up, but I damp it down impatiently. He's seventeen and dreaming, of course he's aroused. But I cannot help but wonder if he dreams of me the way I dream of him.  
  
With a shake of my head I shift around on the bed, pulling my pillows with me. I lie on my stomach watching him across the dormitory, safe in my secret midnight fantasies. One last look reveals James and Peter are still asleep, so I close my eyes and let my mind drift, keeping one thought central: Sirius Black.  
  
I want to see all of him, see him lying as he is now, but awake and waiting for me, blue eyes following my every move as I slowly disrobe, teasing him. He swallows heavily, running his tongue over red, kiss-swollen lips. The sheet is pulled up around him, shyly hiding his naked body from sight. I stalk across the room to stand at the foot of his bed, grabbing the sheet and pulling it off him. Sirius blushes and fights the urge to cover himself with his hands. My eyes track over his wiry athletic body and down to where his dick lies erect. Red, swollen and ready, curling up over his stomach, balls hanging heavy beneath it.  
  
I want to hear him cry out my name as I pleasure him, his dick in my mouth, hands playing with his balls. Snaking back, my fingers play with his sensitive opening, muscles still tender from the fucking I gave him earlier this evening. His cries turn to incoherent moans and groans as arousal overloads his already flooded system. His moans then turn to pleas as I slide two fingers into him. Parting his legs and panting, he begs me to take him again. His screams are rough as I pound his already sated body.  
  
The wolf in me wants to scent him out, some primal instinct wanting to learn the signature smell of that which is mine. Pushing him flat on the bed, I straddle him, leaning over his chest. Burying my head in the crook of his neck I inhale deeply, his unique scent coursing through me. A faint herbal smell from his shampoo and soap still hang in the air around him. He's worked up a sweat from our evening together, a masculine smell covering his skin. The smell of our arousal is heavy in the air around us, mixing with the smell of come, charging our bodies. There is also fear emanating from Sirius; I can smell it. Fear. of what? Of me, of the wolf, of himself, of us? With a sigh I nuzzle against him, knowing that this scent has been catalogued as Sirius, as mine.  
  
I want to taste him, our mouths meeting in hot passionate kisses, tongues duelling, then promising delights still to come. Breaking apart, breath panting, my mouth sliding down his body, licking and sucking at his skin, tasting him. Reaching my goal, I look up at him and hold his eye contact as I slip his dick into my mouth, sucking him off. He comes in my mouth, his salty essence covering my tongue, and I taste him as it slides down my throat.  
  
I want to touch him, run my hand through that dark hair of his, and feel it tangling around my fingers. His skin is silky smooth, his torso hairless, inviting me. An invitation there is no way I could even think of refusing. Starting at his face, my fingers trail all over his skin, down his cheeks, over his lips, down his chin and neck, over his chest, tweaking already erect nipples, down over his stomach, playing with his dick and balls, before sliding down his legs and finally tickling his feet, eliciting a kick and a giggle and he sits up and grabs me in a playful headlock. He retaliates tickling me until we're both laughing and gasping for breath, lying in each other's arms on his bed.  
  
I want him. 


End file.
